


My Eternal Witness

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: Missy doesn't die and she has one more surprise up her sleeve.





	My Eternal Witness

**Author's Note:**

> So Moffat joked (?) about Missy announcing she's pregnant in the finale, I'm clinging to that. I don't think I'll ever come to terms with her ending, but writing this has helped. It starts out dark and turns to fluff. I promise, keep reading it'll all be okay. Writing this has been cathartic in that it's cemented my denial well and truly in place and I will soon be returning to writing one shots on the heady Vault days. Would appreciate any feedback you have. Enjoy!

It was painful watching her. She looked conflicted, confused and oh so lost. She was broken and it was his fault. Ever since she’d been in the Vault, Missy had been more emotionally vulnerable than he had ever seen her and he should have known that she wasn’t ready for this. 

 

He had led her straight into the path of temptation. He’d taken the druggie straight to her dealer. 

 

“Doctor,” the Master bellowed smugly pulling him out of his trance. “I bet you have enjoyed keeping this me locked up in the Vault. You are a naughty devil. Though, I am certainly divine in this form. I’ll give you that.”

 

The Master ran an icy finger along Missy’s cheek, holding all her attention. For a second, all that could be heard was Missy’s desperate gasp. 

 

Love me, it seemed to beg wordlessly.

Need me. Tell me I’m needed. 

 

The Doctor cringed and struggled against his restraints. He watched the Master- the older, male one- with rightful worry remembering how much more dangerous he had been in this form. He’d been crazier, more unpredictable and crueller. And despite his best attempts at denying it, he had always been his own worst enemy. 

 

Missy watched the Master, mouth hanging open as though she depended on his every word. His praises and his wishes were keeping her alive. They were her air. The Doctor swallowed, regrets washing over him. He should have been kinder to her in the Vault; shown her more positive reinforcement instead of tough love. 

 

In an instant, the Doctor was suddenly reminded of how much of a misogynist this Master had been. It was ironic, given the lack of gender concepts on Gallifrey. All too quickly Missy suddenly reminded him of the Master’s tragic human wife, Lucy. The Doctor had seen it coming before Missy did. It just proved how awe-struck she was her former self- she couldn't even predict her own actions. 

 

The Master had pulled his finger away from Missy’s cheek, smirking in a way that Missy mistook for a warm smile.

 

“You know what?” The Master cooed at his female self. 

 

“Wha…What?” Missy stammered, barely believing that he was taking the time to address her personally. 

 

Smack. The sound of the Master’s hand slapping against Missy’s cheek made the Doctor feel sick. He looked over at Missy, catching sight of the tears threatening to fall from her blue eyes and a burning red hand mark appearing on her cheek. 

 

“You’re a pathetic version of me. I’d rather be dead than be you.” Missy wavered and the Doctor thought her knees might give way were it not for the Master’s strong grip on her waist. His hands were digging into her ribs and the Doctor knew it was hurting her. He could see her pained expression and the way she was trying to desperately hide it. 

 

She musn’t show herself up in front of him. She can’t let herself down.

 

“Don’t listen to him Missy.” The Doctor tried again to loosen his restraints before looking up at her, relieved when he realised he had her attention. Missy’s paled face was watching his every move in anticipation. She reminded him of a child, ready to absorb any information she was given. He just had to make sure she absorbed the right information. “You’ve made me so proud these last few months. You’ve been amazing and you’re the better version of him. You’re the best you’ve been in centuries.” 

 

Missy went to meet the Doctor, drawn to him by his soft words and kindness. He smiled encouragingly, reaching out with his mind to tell her she was doing the right thing. Missy made it two steps before the Master yanked her back, coiling his hand around her tiny wrist and pulling her arm from its socket. 

 

The sound of her bone crunching mixed in with the sound of the metal clanging coming from the streets down below. Missy’s face contorted into one of complete pain. Where once her eyes would have been full of fire, ready to retaliate to any attack, now there was just defeat. He’d never seen her look so dejected. The Master pushes her to the floor, sneering at her as she holds her shoulder and releases small whines of pain. 

 

“Why are you doing this?” The Doctor pleads, drawing his eyes away from Missy’s crumpled form and looking over at her past self. “She’s you! You can get better…We can stand together.”

 

“She” the Master spins on his heel and points at Missy, causing her to curl up smaller, “is an abomination. You’ve turned her- you’ve turned me- into your lap dog. Dancing to your tune in the hope that you might throw us a scrap of bacon in reward.”

 

The Doctor opens his mouth to protest but the noise that emerges next doesn’t come from his mouth. Instead, it’s Missy’s words that ring out. “I’ve changed. I’ve got better and I’ve turned good because I want to,” she says in the smallest, most defiant whisper she can muster. Hauling herself up onto her knees with a wince, she adds “it was no one’s choice but mine.”

 

The Master chuckles, a low guttural chuckle that grows into a roar. “I am the Master. I am everyone’s Master,” he marches towards Missy and crouches down, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I am your Master.”

 

Missy’s whole body is trembling with fear. She knows more than anyone the type of pain this madman is capable of inflicting. She wants to say something witty, chide him with her infamous tongue but she can’t. She’s frozen in time and feels like she can’t breathe, let alone talk. 

 

The Master leans in and pushes a stray curl from her face. “The last of our wild streak, these wonderful locks” he muses, stroking the hair back and reaching his hand down to cup her cheek. Missy stops trembling and looks up at him with those wide, awe-struck eyes again. The Doctor swallows gravely, any sign of kindness from any person and she would eat it up. He’d tried so hard to show her what true friendship and love looked like over the last few decades but maybe he’d got it wrong. “I hurt you,” the Master says so gently. Missy nods, sinking into his touch. “It..it was my fault,” she whispered not quite sounding like herself. She’s caught in his trance, in the spell of herself. “Shh, shh my dear” he replies calmly, placing a finger on her lips. 

 

“Don’t listen to him, Missy” the Doctor begged, trying to stand and falling back into his wheelchair. “Shut up old man!” The Master snared, glaring back over his shoulder. Missy jumped out of her skin, at his sudden change of mood. He was so predictably unpredictable that she couldn’t predict herself. What a mess her last self had been. “Now look what you did” he seethed at the Doctor, “you scared me.” The Doctor shook his head. “You scared her,” he corrected. They were not the same person, the Doctor could see that. Missy had changed and improved. 

 

“Don’t be scared, female me” he soothed. He couldn’t be more condescending if he tried but Missy lapped it up. “You’ve taken the wrong road and ended up at the door of good. It’s okay though. I’m here now and I’m going to help you get better.” “You’ll help me?” Missy whispered, never taking her eyes off him. “I’ll always help you. You have to do everything I say though, okay?” 

 

Missy nodded eagerly. 

 

The Master didn’t respond verbally but instead forced his lips onto hers. It was a rough kiss, biting and marking her until she granted him entry into her mouth. He pulled away just as quickly as he imposed himself on her. Missy was left gasping, bloodied lips agape as she waited for more. 

 

“Did I do it wrong?” She croaked, leaning forward desperately. 

 

“No, no Missy,” the Doctor said, itching to reach out and hold her. This was an incarnation of her that thrived with physical contact but often mixed up positive and negative attention, just craving any kind of contact she could get. A gentle kiss to her forehead? She’d take that. A punch to her gut? She’d take that too. “This is bad. I know you don’t want this.”

 

The Master’s grin widened and he forced Missy to look back at him. 

 

“I never had us down as a submissive,” he teased as he hitched her skirts up around her waist, pushing her back down and trailing his hand up her leg. Missy was trembling again. This wasn’t like when the Doctor touched her. It wasn’t gentle and loving and caring. It was harsh, possessive and controlling. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want this at all. The hard concrete hurt her back as she turned her head to look at the Doctor. Her eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears. Silently, she tried to convey to the Doctor that he was right. She didn’t want this, she wanted the Doctor’s touch, not his touch, not her own touch. 

 

The Doctor caught her look, understood it. “Come here, Missy. Come to me” he begged one more time. “Let me out and we’ll fight this together.” 

 

She tried to move but his hands were on her waist before she could shift an inch. “I wouldn’t do that. You can never escape your past. You will never escape me.” He’s hissing and pressing down on her body. It hurts and she can’t move. All too soon, he’s in her ear whispering about how much he hates what he’s going to become. Then, he’s in her mind, everywhere at once.

 

“Open your legs,” he commands. His hot breath tickles her ear and she’s transported back to all those years ago when it was her whispering those words to Lucy. Poor Lucy had trembled underneath her the first few times it happened. Soon she’d toughened up and learned to just lay still until it was over. Missy found herself weighing up her best odds. Should she tremble and try to fight or should she just accept it? 

 

“No,” she croaked, looking up at him and locking her legs tight together. The Master tuts while the Doctor keeps pulling at his restraints, trying to free himself.

 

“Missy, Missy, Missy” the Master sighs tiredly. “We both know it’s going to happen either way, so come on play nice.”

 

“No.” She’s breathing heavily now, chest heaving. The Master pouts and coos at her as though she were a small child. “Doctor,” he commented, tilting his head to one side as he observes the other Time Lord. “You’ve made me monosyllabic.” The Doctor growls, pulling his wrist and knowing he is close to escaping. 

 

It’s not close enough though. Within seconds, the Master is stripping Missy of her knickers, pushing his way inside her and grunting as he rams into her. She cries out in pain, tears spilling down her cheeks as he continues with his relentless thrusts. 

 

The Doctor doesn’t know where to look, he wants to look away and block out Missy’s cries as she thrashes and fights with her past. It’s such a literal show of how much she’s struggled to move away from her past self. They both know that there are only two people in the Universe that can ever truly hurt the Mistress. One is strapped to a wheelchair and would never dream of hurting her even when she’s given him every excuse to. The other is rutting away on top of her, kept going by power and lust. He would do anything to hurt her, or anyone else for that matter. He seems to have a special breed of cruelty stashed away for his future self though. 

 

The cries turn hysterical, as Missy’s tears had a habit of doing, and before long the only sounds in the air is her sobbing as she begs for mercy and the wet slapping of skin together as the Mater keeps up his brutal pace. Missy knows that begging herself, or at least the version of herself that is currently on top of her, for mercy is never going to work. Instead, she manages to turn her face to the Doctor, her glassy eyes searching his face for the kindness he always offered. 

 

“Doctor, please, Doctor.” She doesn’t know what she’s begging him for. This is happening and they both know it can’t be stopped. Maybe she’s begging for a distraction, or for him to make it end faster, or for his forgiveness when she ultimately betrays him. Because she will. Even after the Master has done this to her, she will stand by his side. They always act in self-preservation, you see, him and her, her and him. They stand alone and they stand together. They are the Master and it’s what they do. 

 

It’s her pleading eyes that stops him from turning away from the brutality of what’s in front of him. He often forgets that this Master, the male one, is so close to the Time War in his personal time line that brutality is second nature. He’s war and fire and madness. Missy has only ever been fire and madness and even that’s been tamed- to an extent- with his careful handling. As he watches the Master raping her (because that’s what this is, he realises grimly), he is reminded of what Missy was like the first few times they had sex in the Vault. She was rough and harsh and impatient until he matched her every move with care and gentleness and patience. He showed her what love could really look like and gave her a comparison model she’s never had before.

 

Her small voice is cracking through his thoughts again. “Doctor,” she breathes breath hitching in pain as the Master thrusts up into her particularly harshly. He doesn’t know what to do as he sees her tear-stained cheeks but he knows he must do something. And so, he does the only thing he can think of, projecting straight into her mind. At first, he’s projecting a mental embrace and trying to shield her from the assault on all her other senses. Then he’s showing her images of their intimate moments together, reminding her that gentleness and kind touches still exist. It had taken years in the Vault to help her understand that and he was not going to let him ruin it in under five minutes. 

 

The Master picks up on the Doctor’s mental presence. That and Missy’s begging seem to send him over the edge. He stills, ramming into her one last time and spilling hot cum into her. Missy’s body comes to a shuddering stop and she holds her breath, not daring to imagine it’s finally over. The Master laughs, tugging her blouse off her shoulder and revealing an expanse of pale skin. There are dark purple bruises already forming on her dislocated shoulder and the Mater traces a finger over them, admiring his handiwork. Missy flinches away, she can still feel him inside her but he’s soft now and she’s praying to Gods she doesn’t believe in that it’s nearly over. 

 

“You are a good girl,” he sneered before leaning down and biting into the fleshy part of her injured shoulder. It’s agony and she screams out in pain, unable to hide her distress from anyone. The Master’s still laughing at her as he pulls away and licks his tongue up her neck. “I don’t like good girls though.” 

 

Standing up and away from Missy, the Master shakes his head and looks down at her like a disappointed parent. Reflexively, Missy had reached up, missing his contact. Why are you so fucked up? She criticised herself internally. He had raped her and she still craved his touch and attention. 

 

“You’re not the one that’s fucked up Missy,” the Doctor assured softly as he picked up her stray thoughts.

 

Tucking himself back into his trousers, the Master turns to the Doctor. “I forgot you were here. You always did have a penchant for voyeurism. Such a kinky bastard.” They all know he hadn’t forgotten, the Master always had loved a show.

 

The Doctor growls and watches Missy curl in on herself, turning away from her former self and her one true friend. Her knickers are still around her ankles, skirts hitched up at her waist leaving her naked and exposed. The Doctor see bruises and blood and cum running down her thighs. He wishes her could take her in his arms but knows he can’t. Knows that, at this second in time at least, she will still choose herself over him. She will go with the Master because they’ve always believed in self-preservation, even as it crashes into self-destruction. She’s very still, as though she’s scared to move in case she attracts his attention again. The Doctor looks over her form to the vast landscape ahead. The clouds of burning smoke and red-tinged air remind him that they’re on the cusp of a war. He hates the war-torn horizon, but he’s pleased it’s there because Missy had always found explosions and chaos beautiful. She deserves some comfort now. 

 

The Master’s eyes followed his down to Missy. “Oh bless, she’s all tired out. I guess it’s been a long day for her what with being out of the Vault and everything.”

 

“You raped her,” the Doctor seethes. “You’ve hurt her.” 

 

The Master tsks. “She’s me and I’m her,” he shrugs in explanation as he crouches down behind Missy. “Makes no difference,” the Doctor says watching his every move carefully. 

 

Placing a hand on Missy’s back, the Master coos as she flinches. “Shh, shh lady-me,” he whispers, leaning in close to her ear and kissing behind it gently. Missy shivers and the Master laughs. “Aren’t I fragile in this form?” He looks back at the Doctor who is all angry eyebrows and darkened expression. “I’m going downstairs, Missy. You’ve got five minutes and then you know where you can find me.” Missy nods despite herself and the Doctor feels like he’s been punched in the stomach as he watches seventy years work disappear. 

 

“You are a good girl,” the Master laughs, spitting the words out bitterly. “It’s okay, though, I’m going to help you fix that.” He stands and starts to walk towards the stairwell doors. Pausing one last time, he looks at the Doctor. “You’ve always been better at the aftercare. Sort her out before she follows me down. I don’t want to deal with a snivelling mess.” 

 

“Maybe she won’t want to follow you down,” the Doctor retorts. They both know that she will. 

 

The Master laughs, shakes his head and disappears into the stairwell. He sees the Cyberman standing guard at the door as he walks away, wonders briefly why it hasn't hurt any of them but ultimately dismisses it as an anomaly. 

 

There’s a silence on the rooftop now, but it’s not a peaceful one. The Doctor finally manages to loosen the restraints enough to set himself free. He walks without hesitation to Missy, crouching down and touching her back gently. She flinches but settles and he rubs small circles, feeling the cotton of her jacket under his thumb. 

 

“It’s me,” he says softly like he had every time he’d found her crying in the Vault. Missy turns into him and looks unbearably young as she stares up at him. “I only have four minutes,” she whispers and then I have to go.” 

 

The Master’s got his claws latched into her and the Doctor looks at her desperately. “You don’t have to go with him. Stand with me. I know what you’re capable of and with you on  
my side, this’ll be over by tea time and we can go back to the Tardis together.”

 

Missy looks at him and for a moment he dares to hope. But he is a Time Lord and he knows better than anyone that there is a time for all things. There will be a time for her to stand with him. This is not it. 

 

“I can’t,” Missy says hoarsely. It sounds like the words aren’t her own, like they’ve been ripped from her throat. The Doctor accepts her answer. “Okay. You know the option is always there. No matter what you do, the option to stand with me will always be there.”

 

She wishes he wouldn’t be so sentimental. Her mind is jumbled and her body is tired and she doesn’t have the energy to deal with his declarations and morals. Still, she nods numbly. 

“Let me help you,” the Doctor states as he eases her up and guides her to the wheelchair he had been confined to. “We still have three and a half minutes.” Missy lets him help and looks blindly out to the middle distance as he pulls up her knickers and adjusts her skirts. She had looked a mess but she had always been a beautiful mess. 

He doesn’t have any first aid equipment, or even wet wipes so he is unable to do anything about the blood or the cuts or the dislocated shoulder. He regrets that deeply, knowing that she will go down to the Master and he will have a bath run for her as he gently tends to her wounds and whispers lies into her ears. She’ll lap it up, mistaking it for self-love. 

Missy rests for the next two and half minutes before standing. “I don’t like it when I’m late,” she declares and walks towards the door in obvious pain. The Doctor reaches out, “He’s not you. You’ve changed” he says, holding her wrist softly and wishing he never had to let her go. If her let her go now, he wasn’t sure he could protect her. Missy looked down at her feet. “Please, Doctor, don’t make me late.” They both know it’s her way of saying she doesn’t want to be hurt again.

“You have time Missy, you won’t be late,” he sighs, dropping her wrist and reaching for something in his pocket. He’d confiscated all her weapons when she’d arrived in the Vault but knew he couldn’t let her go away unarmed. Pulling out her treasured Gallifreyan blade, he handed it to her. “I still believe in you and I know you’ll know when the time is right to use this.”

Missy took the blade, tucking it up her sleeve. “Don’t let him see it.” 

“I won’t,” she agreed; to his surprise. “I have to go now.”

The Doctor let her go, watching her pause and jump as she caught sight of the cyberman stood by the wall. It took her a second to realise who it was. “Bill,” she murmured, looking her up and down as the silver armour seemed to fall away and show the young human for who she really was. “Doctor, your friend is here,” Missy informed as she disappeared down the stairwell to re-join her former self. 

Friend, not pet, the Doctor noted as he looked over at Bill and the empty stairwell. He had forgotten Bill was there, she had seen it all and he dreaded to think what she thought of the sordid scene that had just played out.

“What…what was that?” Bill stammered and the Doctor was pleased that he still heard her human voice. “Are you going to let her go back to him?” 

The Doctor looked at her sadly, wished she could comprehend the impossible situation he was in. Remembers that he never got around to explaining regeneration properly to her and wonders who she thinks the man with the goatee is. 

“Is that who you were protecting her from in the Vault?” She asks, managing to look compassionate even as her metal armour flickers through her self-imposed perception filter. “Is that really her ex?”

“I was protecting her from herself,” he murmurs. “I forgot how impossible that could be.” 

There’s silence as Bill contemplates what he’s said. “You mean, that was really her?” She asks, realisation setting in. The Doctor nods. “I’m afraid so. Now come on, there’s no time to dwell, we have lives to save.” 

He included Missy’s life in that. 

*****************************************************

Operation Exodus was quashed relatively quickly, there had been moments of fear and desperation but there had been more moments of hope. Every so often, the Master and Missy had popped up and helped. The Master had remained the angry ball of energy he always was, relishing in the killing while Missy had remained limp and loyally by his side. She looked an unnatural grey as she hung on his every word. He could see she was still injured and knew that she must have gained more punishments from him.

Each time he got close to her, he felt something strange, something he couldn’t quite place. He did notice that her jacket looked tighter and her face was slightly fuller. The Master must be making sure she ate well. A slap with one hand and a biscuit with another, he thought grimly. The last time he’d seen them, less than an hour ago, he’d thought he had her safely back in his grasp. She had slipped through again though. 

She’d been crying again. But with tears, there was hope. He had felt the knife pressed against his hand as he held it tightly. He had hope and she had hope and just maybe this time they’d make it out together. That was why now, with Cybermen parts scattered across a charred and barren landscape, the Doctor was scouring through looking for any sign of his Mistress. An umbrella, a flash of purple material or dark brown frizz that couldn’t contain itself. He wasn’t alone. Nardole was helping and Bill was back. She wasn’t human but she wasn’t a cyberman, either. That crush of hers had found a way back and something has happened that he will ask about later, but he was too focused on Missy right now to think about anything else. 

“Doctor!” Nardole shouts urgently, teeth worrying at his lower lip as he catches sight of the Mistress. To his surprise, he so wanted her to live. The Doctor had barely survived River’s death, he wouldn’t survive Missy’s. “She’s over here, but she doesn’t look good.” The Doctor darted to Missy, her burnt purple attire standing out in the soil. He picked her up in his arms, feeling her shake. She was pale and her breathing was shallow but she was alive. The others stood back as they watched the Time Lords, transfixed by the scene. “Don’t’ just stand there!” The Doctor roared, “Get the Tardis and get the med-bay set up.” The mismatched group of the Universe’s misfits scurried into action and the Time Lords were left alone.

Missy’s raspy breath and pained whines filled the air and the Doctor cooed softly, stroking her hair back and trying to keep her warm and focused on him. “I’ve got you,” he reassured watching as her mouth opened and closed as she attempted to speak. “I did it,” she eventually managed. “I did what you wanted and I turned good. I remember now, I remember how I became Missy.” She’s shaking from the effort it’s taking to talk and growing paler by the minute. The Doctor kneels in the fake mud with her, resting her head in his lap and stroking her hair. She always loved it when he played with her hair. She’s coughing and then she’s laughing. “I just forgot I should never turn my back on myself.”  
“You’re going to be okay,” the Doctor soothes, kissing her forehead. “Just regenerate.” It hurts. Those words will always hurt and for a minute, they’re not this Doctor and Missy, but that Doctor and that Master. 

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, you have a full set of regenerations, I know you do.”

Missy shook her head and laughed again. “I cheated,” she coos. “Without hope, without witness, without reward.” She is choking, smiling through tears and gasping for every breath. “I cheated.”

The Doctor looks down at her with that beautiful look of utter bewilderment that this face does so well. “You didn’t cheat, Missy, you did everything right.” He’s holding her tighter now, applying any pressure he can to keep her awake. 

Her lips quirk into a crooked smile and dried blood cracks on her lips. “I had all those things. I had hope, I had witness and I had reward.” 

“I always believed in you Missy, is that what you mean?” He questions desperately, wondering fleetingly if she’s growing delusional. “Now please, regenerate, we’ve got a whole universe to see.” 

Missy shakes her head and he can see her fighting against the regeneration; he knows she loves this body, but he knows she loves life more. “You really are a silly sausage,” she trills weakly. “I’ve told you, I can’t. I’ve told you why. Do you need me to spell it out?”

It’s not a time for games, but Missy’s never been good at gauging the mood. “Yes! Tell me why you can’t regenerate?” He orders, shaking her shoulders as her eyes drift close. 

Her eyes shoot open and she smiles at him. It’s a peaceful smile and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “I’m pregnant,” she whispers. It’s so quiet, he barely believes he heard it. “If I regenerate, the pregnancy will self-abort.” 

“You’re what?” He gasps, shaking her again as her eyes begin to drift shut once more. “Missy, come on, stay with me” he encourages and her eyes are back open again in an instant. Her Doctor only ever needs to call and she’ll be there every time. 

“You heard me,” she slurs. “She’s my hope, she’s my witness and she’s my reward. My whole life’s not about you, Mr. Ego.” 

“She?” The Doctor asks as it’s all he can think to say as he tries to process the news. Unbuttoning her jacket, his eyes settle on the smallest of bumps. He didn’t think it was possible for Time Tots to be conceived this way, it was why they had been so careless with protection in the Vault years. Then a darker thought grips him. It might not be his. 

The Tardis materialises around them, ensuring they’re in the med-bay straight away and the Doctor is placing her on a bed, working to stabilise her as soon as possible. 

Missy nods meekly with a coy smile. In that instant, coy suited her. “The future’s all girl.”

********************************************************************************

When Missy wakes up, weeks have passed. She’s no longer in the med-bay but in the Doctor’s room, bundled up in a duvet and propped up by several pillows. The door clicking shut wakes her properly and she sees the Doctor shuffling over to the armchair and picking up his dog-eared book before noticing her eyes on him. 

“Hello, you” he says softly, not quite sure what else to say. He’s never been so pleased to see those blue eyes in his life. 

Missy tries to speak but all that emerges is a croak as her unused vocal chords struggle to keep up. She tries to sit up, but struggles with that too. It’s not because of her injuries, though, they are mostly healed. Instead, it’s because of the extra weight at her middle. Ah, another change in her centre of gravity, she thought. She’s adapted before, she can do it again. The Doctor’s at her side, helping her up and offering her a bottle of water. She accepts and drinks greedily. 

“Hello,” she states eventually. Her voice is still weak but she’s happy. At least, she thinks she is. Her hands rest on her bump and she looks down, her tiny little secret not so secret- or tiny- anymore. 

The Doctor watches, not quite believing what he’s seeing. “The kids have gone out, we’ve got some time alone.” 

“The kids?” Missy asks, eyebrow quirked. 

“Nardole, Bill and Heather.” He pauses, remembering that she has yet to meet Heather. “Heather’s Bill’s girlfriend. You’ll like her- or at least I think you will. I can never quite tell with you.”  
“Darling, I’m standing with you, not the humans. Let’s not get carried away with ourselves.”

“Heather’s not human and neither is Bill anymore. It’s a long story, you’ve missed a lot.” He’s talking fast because it’s the first chance he’s had to talk to her and there have been moments since operation Exodus, where he thought he’d never speak to her again. “Anyway, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re not standing anywhere anytime soon.” He nods at her bump, visible under the duvet. “Bed rest until she’s here. If you’re lucky, I might help you get down to the library every so often.”

Missy looks down at her bump, contemplatively. Suddenly, there are tears in her lap. She thought she’d kicked that nasty habit of leaking. “I…I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d lost you. I thought I had lost myself.” 

He’d been waiting for the tears, waiting for the enormity of everything to set in. “You didn’t lose anything. You’ve gained so much. We’ve gained so much.” He reaches for her hand and squeezes it tightly. 

There’s silence. Missy looks over at him guiltily. “I can’t be sure she’s yours,” she whispers. “I want her to be but I was weak and I was desperate and I let him touch me.”  
The Doctor kisses her forehead. “I know that, but she’s yours and that’s enough for me.” 

*******************************************************************

It was a long and tough pregnancy and the Doctor wasn’t surprised when the birth was just as bad. Dabbing her sweat lined face with a cool flannel, he let Missy squeeze his hand, feeling his bones crunch under her grip as she cried out in agony. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praised and pressed his lips to her forehead as the labour entered its thirtieth hour. Nardole was making a surprisingly good midwife, looking up at the Doctor from his position in front of Missy’s spread legs. “I can see the head,” he informed as he looked back down. “At least I think that’s what it is,” he commented and tilted his head for further inspection. Missy tensed and the Doctor stroked her shoulder. “Ignore him, it’s the head” he promised, scowling at Nardole. 

“Yes, yes, it is” Nardole confirmed. “I’m sorry, my training in midwifery was not on humanoid species.” 

Missy grunted, pressing into the bed and pushing as she tried to filter out Nardole’s wittering. “Oh, look at that,” he gasped. “Here come the shoulders.” Nardole’s commentary is silenced as the Doctor glares at him and points to the warm towels behind him. The cyborg retrieves the towels and returns just in time to catch the screaming newborn. 

“Doesn’t she sound like her mother during the first years in the Vault? All that screaming and anger at the Universe.” Nardole teases as Missy collapse back against the bed exhausted. The Doctor looks over at him with a slight grin he can’t quite contain. He’s giddy with happiness. “Let us have a look at her then,” he orders gently as he leans over and kisses Missy’s head. She’s panting and exhausted, but there’s a tired smile painted on her face.

Nardole bundles the newborn up in the towels and places her gently on Missy’s chest. The Universe stops in that instant for Missy, and the Doctor can see it. There are tears in her eyes and there are tears in his and there are tears in the baby’s, too, but they’re drying up and giving way to innocent curiosity. Missy gasps and the words catch in her throat. 

“She loves me,” she mutters eventually, trailing her hand over the newborn’s head. The Doctor nods, encouraging her to continue. “And I love her.” 

Nardole’s helping Missy to deliver the placenta, but she doesn’t notice, too enthralled by her daughter. It’s delivered easily and he excuses himself, leaving the three of them in peace. 

“It’s unconditional,” the Doctor smiles. She’s finally understanding what love is. 

“Like our love,” she comments, not looking away from the baby. “We’re a family now.”

The Doctor gulps at this, smile faltering. “I know she’s yours.” Missy murmurs tiredly, “she’ll never be his.” He thinks it’s a mixture of wishful thinking and drugs, but he lets her have it. 

“You’re right,” the Doctor agrees. “She’s all yours.” “She’s ours,” Missy corrects and she’s so stubborn that the Doctor believes her. “If you must know, you can do a DNA test. Just let me have a cuddle first.”

“I don’t need to know. I’ve got you and I’ve got her. Suddenly I have everything I need.”

Missy smiles and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look happier. Or more tired. “Have a rest,” he sighs, “I’m going to tell Bill and Heather everything’s okay. They’ve been climbing the walls since you went into labour. I think you’ve firmly confirmed that they’ll be adopting if they ever decide to have kids.”  
She laughs and it turns into a yawn. “They can adopt Nardole and then we really will be one big, happy, space family.”

The Doctor smiles and dims the lights, pausing in the doorway. “We are one big, happy space family. Now get some rest.” 

Suddenly it’s just Missy and her daughter in the room. Her little secret is gurgling up at her in awe, the treasure that kept her going at the very end has finally bloomed into her reward. “With hope, with witness, with reward” she whispers, planting a kiss on her forehead. She lets herself cry freely then. Happy tears she never thought she’d deserve. She wants to stay awake and cherish these moments but she can feel her eyes drifting shut. 

She lets them, after all these centuries she is finally tired of fighting with herself. But she still finds herself whispering to the newborn. “You saved me. You never knew who I was before I had you and I hope you never find out.” She’s kissing her head again, it’s as natural as breathing. She can’t stop kissing her and she can’t stop smelling her. She never wants to let her go. “You and your daddy saved me.”

The Doctor had thought she was asleep when he came back into the room, her eyes were shut and she looked like she was resting but before he could take a step further into the room, she had started talking again. Not to him, though. He hovered and listened to her words, his hearts set to burst with pride. He considers walking in, letting her know he was there but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure that he’s your daddy, but if I remember my biology classes correctly, and they were a very long time ago, there wouldn’t be enough genetic variants for self-impregnation.” The Doctor listens sadly and suddenly realises the paternity of her daughter had been bothering her more than she let on. She always had looked for solid explanations when she needed reassurance.

“The pregnancy would have failed if you were his. If you were only mine, you wouldn’t be here.” Missy’s voice wavers here and she brings her in tighter, listening to her tiny double heartbeat thump away. Suddenly, she’s kissing her again. Leaning down and pecking her on the nose. The newborn’s eyes open wide and she gawps up at her with such familiar eyes and immediately it’s all those years ago when she finally met him again and they were standing in the halls of 3W. “Yes, I’m certain, I’m right.” 

The Doctor stops her there, coughing and making his presence known. He would be the father no matter what the truth was and they both knew it. “I really think it’s time for you two to rest,” he murmurs as he climbs onto the bed with Missy and wraps his arm around her. Finally, Missy rests. 

*********************************************************************

It’s three days after the birth and Missy thinks it’s her favourite day since her daughter arrived. She’s out of bed, not as tired and not as sore as she sits on the sofa in the library cradling the baby as she feeds. They’ve all come to see her, to admire her daughter and tell her how well she did. 

Missy may be good now, but she still preened under compliments. They’ve also come bearing gifts, and that is something she can never resist. 

“And this one,” Bill picks a colourful blanket up and shows Missy and the Doctor, “Was from Terouse in Galaxy six.” The Doctor beams at Bill, she’d blossomed into such an adventurer. Her and Heather looked like two gap year students, travelling the world and loving their lives. It was what life should be about. 

For a minute, the Tardis thrumming and the baby suckling away is the only noise that fills the room. The Doctor looks over to see Missy’s reaction to the blanket, she’d never liked Terouse and he wanted to see if she was going to manage tact. He needn’t have worried as she was making eyes at the baby again, not caring for anything else in the room. 

“Where’s next?” the Doctor asks, turning back to the young couple. “I’m living vicariously through you two now.” Heather shrugs and wraps her arm around Bill, pecking her cheek. “Wherever we want,” she grins and Bill breaks out into a matching smile. The Doctor loves that smile. 

Nardole looks up and rolls his eyes. “Dearie me, it’s like Love Island on here these days.” Bill looks over at Missy just as the Time Lady looks up, eyes full of mirth. “Not one of us are remotely brain dead enough for that,” Bill dares to say. Missy laughs and leans back against the back of the sofa. “I rather started to enjoy that show back in my Vault days.” The Doctor groans next to her, “I remember.” 

Heather pulls away from Bill and peers over at the baby. “She really is beautiful,” she comments, watching her feed contently, eyes looking around and constantly watching everything. Missy hums. “Thank you dear, but I’m taken.” “She was talking about the baby, Missy” the Doctor corrects and Missy waves her hand dismissively. “I know she was.” “Have you thought of a name yet?” Missy shakes her head but the Doctor can see she’s hiding something behind her smile.

“There’s no rush,” she smiles bringing the baby up to wind as she finishes feeding. “She’s a Time Tot, she’s going to live forever.” The baby burps and Missy yawns. “You tired, love?” The Doctor asks and she nods. The endearments come so easily now they’re on the same page. “I think I’m going to be tired forever.” The others take the hint and start to shuffle out. “I’m going to take these two out for dinner,” Nardole says, looking back into the room. “Let me know if you want anything.”

As the door shuts, Missy lies down on the sofa, stretching herself out and holding her daughter close. The Doctor reaches into his pocket. “Before your nap,” he says quietly, not wanting to startle either mother or daughter. “I have a present for you, too.”

Missy opens her eyes, squinting at the shiny, delicate item he was holding in his palm. She recognised it instantly and thought she’d never see it again. 

“My brooch,” she gasps. “I lost it on Skaro. You can’t have it, I lost it.” Her mind’s running overtime trying to figure out how this had happened. Trying to connect the time lines. What was it she had said to Clara all those years ago? 

“You gave it to me when my daughter-“ 

The Doctor smiles and echoes, “I gave it to you when your daughter-“

Missy’s got tears in her eyes again. Those happy tears. “How does this work? How is this happening?” She asks in disbelief. “It doesn’t make sense.” 

“I found it,” the Doctor shrugs in explanation. He leans down and kisses her forehead, pressing the brooch into her hand. “Don’t try and figure it out, you’ve already got baby brain, just accept it. My gift to you.” 

“Thank you,” Missy gasps, staring down at the brooch she never thought she’d see again. She places it carefully on the side and settles back down for her nap. “Thank you so much.” 

The Doctor watches her settle down. Smiles to himself proudly at a job well done, he’d had the brooch since she ended up in his care but had been waiting for the right moment to give it to her. For once the Universe had granted him the perfect moment. He wants her to sleep, he really does because he knows she’ll be up in half an hour again when the baby needs changing or feeding. She’s coping with it all better than he could ever have imagined. He just has one question he needs to ask. 

“Tell me her name, Missy. I know you’ve chosen one and I am her daddy, I deserve to know.”

Missy smirks, that same smirk she’s always had when she knows something he doesn’t. 

“She’s Witness,” she yawns. “My eternal Witness.”


End file.
